I'd learned my sexual prowess in the hands of Sadie, our married neighbor. Since I'd turned eighteen she had been my mentor. I was pushing twenty when she told me she was leaving the area because of her husband's health.
I was devastated. Sadie looked into my sad eyes, "I really believe you're good enough to make yourself a little career out of your abilities."
"A career?" I asked, as she reached to the bedside table and held out a small card.
'MANON' I read 'Discreet service for ladies with taste.' There was a telephone number.
"It's run by a friend of mine. Ask for Ron Vincent." Sadie whispered, her fingers stroking my belly, as she told me exactly where this establishment was.
"You'll learn much there, Jack---and I do believe you could set up for yourself. There's a host of lonely ladies around. Don't waste your talent." Then her fingers stroked over my semi-erect cock. "And don't waste it now."
. Within a week I found their house empty. My sex tutor had gone. And for a while I felt desperately deprived by her absence. I was about to start at the local university and the more I went into it, the more I realized that money was going to be very tight. It was then I found Sadie's card in my shirt pocket.
Was there really something in this for me? Getting paid for making women happy. Too good to be true? I had to find out. So I rang the number on the card.
A fruity female voice answered and I asked to speak to Ron Vincent.
"Mr. Vincent is extremely busy. You can make an appointment you like." I imagined some fat biddy all tight lips, too much make-up and thick spectacles. But I made an appointment for the following afternoon and hung up.
I was there promptly the next day. The office was up a lane just off one of the main streets in the city. A narrow staircase led to a landing with three doors. 'Manon' was the clear black and white sign on the first door on the left. I knocked and entered to find myself in a small office with a desk, a leather bench, and behind the desk a severe looking blonde, haired pulled back tight, face scowling her suspicion. "Can we help you?" It had been her voice on the phone. Well at least she wasn't fat and didn't wear spectacles.
I told her I had made an appointment to see Ron Vincent. She gave me a stare that made me feel as though I was something that had crawled out of a dead rat's belly. Then she picked up her phone mumbled something, listened, gave me another cold glance as she put the phone down. "Mr. Vincent will see you in a few minutes. Sit there." It was a command rather than an offer as she indicated the leather-covered bench. Watching her pounding on her keyboard I wondered if such a severe woman could ever have a lover. Little did I know.
From time to time she would glance up at me and her head would shake imperceptibly.
Ron Vincent turned out to be a little chubby man who instantly had me thinking of Danny De Vito. Bright and cheery he asked me a few general questions about myself, said he rarely found younger men really up for the job but added that anyone recommended by Sadie must have something to offer
"And I do have some clients who ask for------something younger." His small eyes glowed as he added, "There is a test which all new applicants must go through---a suitability trial if you like."
He stood and walked to a large mirror on the sidewall. I followed him. He dabbed at a couple of switches alongside the mirror and the next second I was staring into a small room containing a large bed, a stool and a small table on which stood a bottle of wine and two glasses.
"Our testing room. In a few minutes a lady will be seated on the edge of that bed. I want you to imagine she is a client demanding to be physically satisfied."
He looked at me. "You have any objections to being viewed in action?"
I was just a little taken aback by the suddenness of it, "You mean---now?"
"If you're up for it." His glance and lascivious smile made it quite clear what he meant.
After only momentary hesitation I agreed. "Good," Ron Vincent said, and he nodded towards a door alongside the see-through mirror. "A little room through there for you to strip down to your
underwear. Then through the other door and you'll find the lady waiting. Just stay cool, son."
I didn't like being called 'son', and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to go through with it. But as I stripped down in the small, neat changing room I began wondering what the woman waiting on the other side of the door would be like. Some old biddy, I guessed. Just to test me.
Down to my boxer shorts I tentatively opened the other door. and stepped into the bedroom, very aware of the large mirror to my left.
Sitting on the edge of the bed was a lady, blonde hair down to her shoulders, dressed in only a short silken slip. My first glance told me that the silk clung to a very delectable body, generous of breast and thigh.
My second glance shook me. I hadn't recognized her with her hair down but it was the same severe secretary that had greeted me. She leaned back on her hands, her face tight, her head shaking, nipples thrusting at the tightened silk of her slip. "Why do I always get you young kids? I suppose you're another one who thinks he can fuck like a man?" She sighed and lay back opening her legs so that the silk rustled, and I glimpsed smooth high inner thigh.
"Come on, then. I guess we'll have this over in about forty five seconds."
Her smugness almost got to me and I had an urge to jump her bones there and then. But the man had said, 'Be cool', so I was cool. I strolled to the table and poured red wine into each of the two glasses and carried them to the bed, holding one out to her. "No hurry is there."
Giving me a funny look, she sat up and took the wine, "Nervous, are we?" she smirked, but I caught her eyes appraising my body. " I guess you're better built than most. But that proves nothing."
We sipped our wine and I struggled for something to say that wasn't too crass. "You look better with your hair down," I ventured, deciding gallantry was what Ron Vincent would be looking for.
"Think you can get your pecker up?" she asked sarcastically.
I took another gulp at the wine then deliberately placed the glass on the floor and ran my fingers slowly up her arm. "Let's see," I said, allowing my fingers to trail around the smooth skin of her shoulder, before pushing the strap of her slip down. Her eyes glared at me contemptuously.
"Some kind of lover boy, are we?" But I thought I caught a catch in her breath as my fingers strayed down the exposed swell of her bosom. It occurred to me that she wouldn't be doing this if she didn't like it. All I had to do was to play this love song in her key, as Sadie had so often advised me.
With my other hand I reached across and took her glass, quickly placing it beside mine. Then I slipped her other strap and allowed both hands to trail down over each generous bosom, pushing away the silken material until her pink nipples were pointing at me. My thumbs stroked over each nipple and she turned her head towards me. I moved to put my lips on hers, but she turned her head away. "We don't kiss," she hissed, "Didn't Mr. Vincent tell you?"
He hadn't, but I didn't answer her. Instead I dropped my head down so that my lips played over her breasts, and I heard her breathing quicken. Tentatively my tongue licked around her nipples and I felt them begin to engorge, just as I felt the rising inside my shorts.
